Conquering The Unbroken

Chapter 7

The weight of a sword in my hand is not foreign. I've held this weapon time and time again, the cold pommel putting pressure on the outside of my fist is no stranger, neither is the leather grip groaning underneath my fingernails digging in.

The sun glistens down the steel blade from the lower end to the point, directing me exactly where I need to thrust the weapon to lay waste to my enemies. I flinch at the thought of that phrase; they handed it to me when I fought in the war with the king. The commanders and generals, along with Binx and Darius, were more than willing to express their gratitude through those two simple words. It'll hang over my head for the rest of my days.

For my sake, Renit gave me a simple sword. The pommel is a hollow diamond and the cross-guard is not decorated like the finest of royal swords. The steel isn't bent into wisps to resemble the most complicated of vines like I've grown used to. The only handiwork that went into crafting this sword was sharpening it, everything else was merely an afterthought.

The king's swords were intricate. Details of all different proportions went into creating such a spectacular weapon that would only kill; kill; kill. He wanted it no other way, and I went along with it. I took the twin swords, mirror to his own, and killed soldiers with them. If there was any second thought hiding away in my mind, I couldn't find it. Everything about me was buried so deep; I'm still trying to uncover the true being.

"Are you ready?" Renit asks, breaking me from my trance. He stands only a few feet away with an identical sword in his hand. The weapon is naturally placed in his grip.

I nod and turn my full attention to the witch standing before me. The time has come to discover whether the king's strengths still live within me. My body moved without thinking, struck without considering, killed without the necessary skills. But they were there, the king gifted them to me and in return, my body reacted in the only way it knew how.

His dark power has departed my body. It makes sense that his strengths; the skill crafted by over five hundred years of life, left with it.

"I'm ready," I confirm.

"I don't want you to hold back, all right?" Renit watches me through lowered brows. "Do whatever it takes to win."

I want to crack a joke, saying I don't want to go too far because his life still means something to me, but this isn't the time. I'm more eager than he is to discover what's still within my bones, what I've developed myself, and where the prince stands during battle. We've never sparred beyond basic training and standing in the clearing outside Arego with a small cluster of rebels going through the same drills, we're taking yet another step closer towards discovering the demons chewing away at my sanity underneath my skin.

Wind is our only companion through this battle, the only living thing that will separate us during the clashing of blades. The collar of Renit's tunic flaps back and forth to reveal the three tattoos pointing up at the base of his throat. He waits, twisting the blade back and forth in his hands, and I go over everything he taught me. Know where to strike, every opponent has their weaknesses.

It's difficult to find a weakness on a three-hundred-year-old witch. Renit received the best training in the kingdom; from assassins to the king's most skilled men, to warriors that have fought their entire lives without taking a breath. Each one has taught Renit a skill, absorbed into his skin, and those movements come about naturally. I've never spotted a weakness on the banished prince, he fights fluidly and easily without involving too much theatrics to complicate the movements. Yet, his opponents can't keep up.

He fights exactly like his father.

I'll use that rage to my advantage. Remember that the king did this, but his son still carries his blood. They are similar in more ways than one and both have had their chance to show themselves to the world. Now it's my turn.